Worth Living For
by Hesper Charm
Summary: Hermione stands on top of an office building, crying, bruised and soaked by rain. Her life took a nosedive when she married right after graduating. As she remembers the events that led to her standing there, she becomes more resolute. But can someone stop
1. Default Chapter

The rain splattered on the ground. Hermione Granger leant over the rail, gasping for breath, wiping away the thick locks of wet hair that stuck to her face. Just looking down, seeing the 100 foot drop that ended in the busy Muggle street made her dizzy. S

Hello everybody! Now this is a depressing story. I don't know what happened, its like someone else wrote it. I just sat there typing. I don't know where I got the idea, or how it developed - it just did.

Its rated for a few swear words, and kinda grim content.

Oh yeah - and JK Rowling owns all the characters, except for the ones I made up (obviously). Thankyou JK!

Now, please r&r! On with the story.

Worth Living For

The rain splattered on the ground. Hermione leant over the rail, gasping for breath, wiping away the thick locks of wet hair that stuck to her face. Just looking down, seeing the long drop that ended in the busy Muggle street made her dizzy. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control her wild gasps of breath, hardly noticing the tears that streamed down her face, mingling with rain drops and blood.

She gingerly touch the bloody gash on her forehead, and winced with the burst of burning pain that shot through her head when her finger brushed the exposed flesh of the cut.

Sobs that she had managed to hold back all evening came bubbling up her throat. She choked on them as they forced their way through her sore, cut lips. She wiped her nose and mouth with the back of her hand and looked down at her expensive evening dress, soaking wet and torn. Suddenly she was crying, sobbing, uncontrollably. Turning her back against the night sky and the lit up city, she sank down until she was crouching against the short wall under the railing, shoulders shaking, head in hands, memories ofthe events of the evening flooding back to her.

She'd been happier than she could remember being for a long time. There she was, walking arm in arm with her husband, wearing a beautiful new evening dress of light blue satin he'd bought for her. The gift he'd made of the dress had surprised and touched her. He never bought her anything. And this gesture of caring made him seem so much kinder. He'd even smiled when she modeled the new dress for him, clapping his hands and proclaiming it perfect. He'd insisted she wear it this evening. They were going to have dinner with his boss, Jim Richerdly, a wizard in his early forties, who knew seven different languages fluently and had traveled the world.

Hermione was proud of her husband, and his high-class job. Viktor Krum was the Bulgarian wizard ambassador to the USA. 

Eight years ago they'd moved to the USA as newlyweds, Hermione fresh out of Hogwarts. Her friends thought she was crazy to get married at such a young age. Ron was especially appalled at the idea, and almost begged her not to go "ruin her life" as he put it. She hadn't listened to them.

"I love Viktor. I'm going to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him. He loves me too. We'll be very happy."

Oh how young and foolish she'd been. Viktor was so wonderful back then. He'd swept her off her feet with his romantic charm and his kindness. Back then he respected her. All that was gone now. Now he was different. There were times when she was so scared of him. Many times she'd been tempted to do what she was going to do now.

They didn't have any children. Many times they'd tried. But all they'd had was miscarriages, and one stillborn. And every time Viktor got the bad news, that he wasn't going to become a father - not this time, he'd get angry at her. Hermione hated it when he got angry at her.

So the dress was a wonderful surprise. And when he smiled at her, Hermione thought Viktor had finally changed.

They entered the fancy Muggle restaurant Mr. Richerdly had picked out looking as they should have - a proud, successful, happy couple.

On meeting Mr. Richerdly and his wife, Isabella, Hermione immediately received a shower of compliments from both. Hermione blushed. She'd spent a long time perfecting her make up and hair, wanting to look perfect, to please Viktor. Her hair, which had long since lost its bushiness, was twisted into a sleek, shiny knot at the back of her head, and she'd used a seductive red lipstick. Viktor's favorite feature was her lips, he always liked it when she made them especially noticeable.

The sudden crash of thunder jolted Hermione from her thoughts. Lightening flashed, lit up the whole sky, and stayed there. It took Hermione a few seconds to realized it wasn't lightening she was seeing, but lights. Peering over the railing, she saw the traffic had been stopped on the street. People crowded at the entrance of the tall office building on whose roof she sat. Police cars were parked everywhere, and great bright lights were aimed up at where they thought she sat.

_Shit._

Someone must've seen her and called the police. There was probably someone coming up at any moment now.

She clutched at her belly as if trying to feel the heartbeat of the child inside her. But it was probably dead now, no matter how she'd tried to protect it. So it didn't matter if she jumped, and she couldn't be guilted down by the fact that she was carrying another life, and it would end with hers.

She hadn't told Viktor she was pregnant. She was planning to wait until the next morning, when he would be in a good mood from the dinner. She'd almost cried when the pregnancy test had come out positive. If this child died, things would just get worse for her. On the other hand, if the baby lived, then maybe...maybe, Viktor would change. Become once again the charming, loving man she'd fallenin love with.

She noticed the bulge showing though Isabella Richerdly's loose peach silk dress almost immediately. She almost screamed with the desperate jealousy that kept growing inside her when they all sat down, and Jim Richerdly put a loving hand on his wife's belly, and looked briefly at her, eyes full of love.

Why couldn't things be like that for Hermione?

Soon the Richerdly's would have a beautiful baby. They'd play with it, cuddle it, take it on walks. The baby would grow into a child, and Isabella and Jim would grow closer bringing it up together.

Not able to bear it any longer, she excused herself and hurried to the lady's room, where she'd almost splashed water on her face - but then realized it would ruin her make up, and Viktor would get upset. So she just stood looking at herself in the mirror for a few minutes, before walking out again.

Viktor was waiting for her outside. He looked at her, his eyes cold. Hermione's heart sped up. He was angry. What had she done? Desperately she scanned her memory for anything she could've done since they'd entered the restaurant to make Viktor angry. She knew he wouldn't do anything here, where people were bound to see, but once they were home...Hermione wondered if she should try begging for mercy - but last time she'd tried that, she got an extra punch.

"Don't do anything stupid," Viktor said, his accented voice barely above a whisper, "Or I'll kill you." He turned, and left. Hermione almost started crying - but no, that would just mess up her make up. That would be a stupid things to do. And Hermione knew Viktor had been serious. If she messed up her make up, she knew he'd keep his word. She didn't doubt that.

Whaddya think? Next chapter coming up soon! Don't forget to review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

okayyy! here it is! chapter two! and thankyou to everyone who reviwed! and sorry to all u H/Hr shippers – maybe next time.

anyway, i put my disclaimer on the last chapter – i don't know if i need to put it here gain, but i will anyway – i don't own anything (xcept my own characters.)

Chapter 2

"I dunno. It doesn't look like there's anyone up there," Lieutenant David Sanders said.

"Look, Dave," his partner, Miranda Eisley, sighed, "I know what I saw."

Sanders shook his head.

"Thompson's on his way up," Eisley told him, "We'll know soon enough."

She was sitting in the driver's seat of their car, which had it's light flashing but the siren turned off. Sanders was leaning against the side of their car. About half an hour earlier, he'd been shaken awake from his nap in the back of the car by Eisley, who had a woman behind her, claiming they'd both seen a woman on the top of the Financial Center.

"Mrs. Crosby saw her and came to get me," Eisley told him, "We're afraid she'd gonna jump. Call for help."

And so that was how they came to be waiting in the midst of about five police cars, a huge crowd of gaping bystanders, and two big searchlights combing the roof of the building.

"If you ask me, its just a big mix up," Sanders said casually, "Probably just one of the employees, coming up to take a breather."

"She was wearing a sating evening dress," Eisley said, slowly, voice tight with frustration. Sanders sighed. He reached behind Eisley for the thermos of coffee. He poured some into a paper cup and handed it to her. She took it without a word. He poured some for himself and threw the thermos onto the passenger's seat.

"How could you see from all the way down here?" Sanders asked, continuing the conversation.

"Dave..." Eisley's warning voice trailed off.

"Hell, how can you be sure it was a woman?" Sanders sipped his coffee cautiously. He hated it when the coffee was too hot. Eisley, on the other hand, _liked to scald her tongue, so they always came to a disagreement about the coffee that went into the thermos they had to share. It was Eisley's thermos, so she usually got her way, and Sanders would have to wait for his portion to cool down._

"Why don't you just go get one from the kitchen?" Eisley asked grumpily, after Sanders had complained about the temperature of the coffee earlier today.

"Because there are none. They're all being used," Sanders had said bluntly, and that was the end of that.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. _We can't let you through!"_

Sanders glanced at Eisley, who rolled her eyes. It was John Salman, who just come out of police academy. A fine young man, but a little too strict when it came to following the rules.

"I guess I'll go see what's going on," Sanders said, pushing himself off the car.

"Have fun," Eisley said dully.

Sanders walked towards the voice. He could see Salman holding back a young man wearing jeans and a sport's jacket, and carrying a backpack that was half open. The thing that caught Sanders' eye, however, was the man's vibrant red hair.

"What's going on here?" he said, in his best authoritative voice. Salman glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw his superior. He let go of the red haired man to stand to attention. The man fell onto his knees. Sanders glared at Salman before extending a hand to help the red haired man up.

"I'm terribly sorry," Sanders apologized, "I'm Lieutenant David Sanders, can I help you?"

"Yeah," The man said, brushing off his jeans, "I'm with the FBI," he flashed a card at Sanders, "And I want to get in. I heard you've got a suicidal woman up there, and we believe it to be Linda Graham, who disappeared three months ago. If you want to check my story, you're welcome to, but it is vital that I get up there."

"If you don't mind me asking, why?" Sanders asked.

"We believe Mrs. Graham is suffering amnesia. She's been spotted a few times before, not knowing who she was or what she was doing. I've brought pictures of her family and home," he flashes these at Sanders too, "and I need to get up there and stop her jumping and try to get her memory back so she'll come back with me to her home."

"Why aren't her friends and family with her?"

The young man blew out air, obviously in a hurry and very frustrated. Sanders didn't care. He didn't want to let anybody in without a very good reason for them to do so.

"They've all stayed behind in hopes that she comes back. They don't know I've found her yet."

"Very well, you can go up, but I'll escort you."

"There's really no need - "

"I insist," Sanders said firmly. The last thing he needed was some psycho running around pushing suicidal women off rooftops.

Stupid stupid stupid! Hermione beat at the wet ground with her fists. Sobbing helplessly, she sat back against the wall, wiping at her dripping face with a stinging hand. A disgusting mixture of mucus, blood, tears and rainwater was smeared across her palm. She wiped it on her dress. She must look a mess. Viktor would think - who cared what he thought? In a few minutes, he wouldn't be a problem. Nothing would be a problem. All her problems would end with a final rush of adrenaline and a sickening thud.

Hermione returned slowly to the table, after making another quick stop to the restroom to check that she still looked presentable and to take a few deep breaths. Viktor was laughing at something Mr. Richerdly had said. She was about to join them, when Hermione saw something that made her stop in her tracks. Only half hidden by the saffron tablecloth, Viktor's hand was on Isabella's knee, stroking it, caressing it. Hermione glanced at Isabella's face. She looked uneasy, as if she was not sure what she should do.

_Tell him! Hermione's mind screamed, __tell your husband!But she remained silent. At that moment, Mr. Richerdly noticed her._

"Hermione!" He smiled at her, and beckoned to her to join them. Viktor twisted in his seat, hand leaving Isabella's knee. She looked relieved. But Viktor knew Hermione had seen. He had a way of reading things in her mind. It was like he was psychic or something. He was glaring at her, eyes flashing dangerously. Hermione swallowed hard, forced a smile, and sat down.

During the dinner, only Viktor and Mr. Richerdly really talked. Mr. Richerdly was a very cheerful, outgoing man, and Viktor somehow managed to copy his manner and was almost as cheerful all evening. Hermione sat silent, afraid of upsetting Viktor, thinking about his hand on Isabella's knee. Isabella was also very quiet, and slightly pale, as if panicking inside. Hermione guessed Viktor's hadn't taken his hand away.

Sometimes, no matter how much Mr. Richerdly laughed, or Viktor joked, there were small silences. They reminded Hermione of the awkward moments she had when she first started dating Ron. The thought almost brought a smile to her face. Almost. 

She had dated Ron all through the sixth year. They'd broken up over the summer. A summer Hermione would never forget, full of tears on her part. She'd really loved Ron. She hadn't realized until later, until it was much too late. 

But he'd accused her of cheating on him with Viktor Krum, and , in a way, she had, although she hadn't meant it. It'd started as a harmless correspondence, which soon turned into love letters. Ron found a love letter she'd written to Viktor, and he'd blown up. The summer they broke up, Hermione went to visit Viktor, and she fell in love. Or at least she thought she fell in love.

Hermione had been thinking of Ron a lot lately. Ron and Harry and all her old friends from Hogwarts. Viktor had forbidden her from writing to them, and she never visited. As far as they knew, she'd disappeared. Viktor allowed her to stay in contact with her parents, but he closely monitored her phone calls, and read the letters she sent them.

Hermione raised her head, closing her eyes, feeling the rain fall on her face, cleansing her. She remembered Hogwarts. She remembered back when life was good. Back when she had lots of friends, a boyfriend who really cared about her. A time when she woke every morning eager to get on with the day. Now she dreaded mornings. She hated every day more and more. Eight years of fear and anger and hate building up inside of her had finally exploded it. Viktor had driven her over the edge. What he'd done tonight had been the last straw.

Isabella excused herself to go to the ladies' room halfway through dinner. A few minutes after she left, Viktor excuse himself too. With him gone, Hermione relaxed a little. She talked to Mr. Richerdly for a few minutes, about how she liked the USA compared to England. Then she excused herself as well, this time to use the bathroom. She walked into the ladies' room, and froze, her very blood running cold through her body.

"Hermione!" Isabella cried, breaking away from Viktor's rough kiss. She was being harassed by Viktor. Viktor whirled around, his eyes were practically on fire. He grabbed Hermione, and began to hit her. She screamed. Isabella screamed. Hermione tried to get away, but Viktor grabbed her dress. It tore. Viktor hurled her across the room. She hit her head on one of the sinks. She felt the blood trickle down her face, and put her fingers up to feel the huge gash on her forehead.

Isabella was still screaming. Hermione, though dizzy from the impact, scrambled up and ran for the door. Viktor caught her.

"BITCH!" He screamed, and hit her hard. Hermione tasted blood. At that moment, a small group of people who'd heard Isabella's screams opened the door. Hermione took the opportunity to scrambled out the door, pushing past people. She ran out of the restaurant, fully aware that Viktor was chasing her. She kept running, and didn't stop until she reached the exact spot where she was standing now.

Out in the rain, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her life was shit, and she was going to end it right now.

i'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. as always – please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Yes! Finally! FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 hope you enjoy this. I reread it and I think its pretty good. tell me what you think(that means please review!) yay! finished!.........

In the elevator, speeding for the top floor, David Sanders studied his escortee. He was quite tall, and his red hair was ruffled by his little scramble with Salman. His face was sprinkled with freckles, and he had very lively eyes. Lively, but coated with worry and tension.

"So, why did this Mrs. Graham disappear?" Sanders asked.

"No one knows," the man said hurriedly. But Sanders thought he'd heard a hesitation - as if the man hadn't known what to say. But before he could say anything, the elevator stopped. Sanders had to run to keep up with the man. They rushed up the stairs to the penthouse, where Albert Thompson and his partner where crouching by the door, about to go outside to try and stop Linda Graham from jumping over.

"Al!" Sanders called, "Stop!" Thompson looked questioningly at Sanders, who shook his head and followed the red haired man outside.

Up on the roof the thunderstorm was much more intense. Sanders narrowed his eyes to slits to avoid the rain getting into them. The rain was so thick it was hard to see, but he could just make out the shape of a woman, balancing on the rail. Next to him, the red haired man murmured a name, "Hermione."

"Hermione? I thought this was Linda Graham!" Sanders said, "Who are you?" He demanded. But the man wasn't listening. He walked forward, "Hermione! Hermione Granger!"

The woman twisted around. Dimly, Sanders could see her dress was torn, and her face bloody. What happened to her?

There was silence, then the woman recognized the man - "Ron?"

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He'd made it in time. Now, if only he could get Hermione to come down.

He was shocked and angered at the sight of her. Her dress torn, her body bruised and bloody. From the mascara stains on her cheeks, Ron knew she'd been crying. She looked like she'd been through hell, and Ron vowed revenge on whoever did this to her.

He'd made a terrible mistake nine years ago. He'd let Hermione Granger slip through his fingers. Watched the girl he loved become Mrs. Hermione Krum. Watched her disappear.

The only way he'd known she was even alive was by talking to her parents. For some reason, eight years ago, Hermione disappeared. She'd been angry at him for the whole seventh year, but Ron found it hard to believe that she could carry her anger for eight years.

No, he knew something else was wrong. And he knew that something was Viktor Krum.

He'd always known Viktor was bad news. And to see Hermione like this - apart from breaking his heart - it filled him with rage towards Viktor.

Looking at her, he could tell how terrible her life had been. He ached to help her. He bit his lip. He'd let Hermione Granger slip away from him once before. Not again.

"Hermione."

"What are you doing here?" her voice was hoarse, from crying, and screaming, as he imagined she'd done this evening.

"I came to get you."

"You're too late." There was a dullness to her voice too. Like she didn't care anymore. He didn't blame her.

"No, I'm not. Come down, Hermione. I'll take you back to England, back to your family."

"No, its too late. My life is ruined," she laugh, a sad, maniacal laugh, "Just like you predicted." She choked on the laugh. It turned into a sob. Suddenly she was crying.

"You don't know what its been like!" she screamed, "You can't understand the hell i've been through. Never again. I'm ending it, right here!"

"No!" Ron cried, "You're right! You have been through hell. But it's gonna get better. It'll change, Hermione. Life will get better. I'll take you home to your family and friends. You'll be surrounded by people who love you. You can lock these memories away, and never think about them again."

"I can't do that!" She sobbed, "I can't just lock away the last eight years of my life. All I want is peace. The end. I want the end. This world is so shitty. There's no point in living life."

Ron almost cried when she said that, "Oh, Hermione. Look what he did to you. You're letting him win. If you jump, you're giving in to him. He'll be the victor. And after eight years, you're still alive. You're still here. You survived. Why give him the satisfaction of knowing he broke you!"

"He knows it! He knows he ruined me. He was planning it all along. The bastard! He deserves to die!"

"That's right!" Ron said, a flicker of hope starting up in his heart, "He's the one who should pay, not you!"

Hermione was silent. The rain had let up slightly. Ron could see her face more clearly. Through the blood and grime caking her face, he could see her eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes, which had always captivated him. His heart started beating faster. He had to get her off that rail.

"There's no point in living," Hermione sobbed, "Nothing worth living for. The world is an evil place."

"You're wrong," Ron said, "There are plenty of good things in the world."

"Like what?" Hermione demanded.

"Like...like friendship! Or chocolate! Puppies, R&B, cauldron cakes!" Was it his imagination, or did he see a flicker of a smile on her face. He kept going, "hot, foamy Butterbeer, unicorns, tea at Hagrid's, the Yule ball...love."

"Love? There's no such thing," Hermione spat.

"There is, Hermione. Viktor is a monster. He doesn't know the meaning of love. I do. A beautiful girl in the sixth year taught me that nine years ago."

Hermione's fierce eyes softened. And suddenly, the words just started pouring out of his mouth. Words he'd wanted to say to her since he watched her walk down the aisle in Viktor's arms.

"Hermione...I..I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, ever since you married Viktor. You have no idea what I went through trying to find you. I knew Viktor was hurting you. I just knew it, and I tried to find you, but you were gone. And then the Ministry sent me to get you from here, and I was so scared, Hermione. I was so scared I'd lose you. You see, I made a horrible mistake nine years ago. I pushed you away, let you go. I regretted it every day of my life after that. And I kept looking for you, beacause I didn't want to let you go a second time. Because...because I love you, Hermione."

Ron saw Hermione was crying. It took a few seconds to realize that he was crying too.

"Come down, Hermione, and I'll take you home. And I promise never to let anyone hurt you, ever again."

There was a pause. Ron waited, heart pounding. He knew he couldn't live without her, if she stepped the wrong way.

Then Hermione smiled, "Help me down?" she asked. Ron realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out and went towards her. Just then, a strong gust of wind burst against Ron's back. He heard a scream.

"Hermione!" He cried, leaning over the rail. She fallen. He saw her falling, screaming.

"Hermione!"

Hermione was falling. She was screaming. She'd never been so terrified in all her life. She was going to die. The street was rushing towards her at lightspeed. She heard people screaming and saw them pointing at her. She closed her eyes.

And then she stopped. She just stopped in mid-air. And she started rising slowly up. And suddenly she knew what was happening. Ron had used the levitating charm. She couldn't remember the actual spell - she hadn't practiced magic in years, because Viktor had forbidden it - but she remembered the first day she ever used it, and had been the first to levitate a feather.

Looking up, she saw Ron leaning over the railing, with three other men, policemen. She'd noticed them behind Ron when he'd first come in. Ron was crying. His arms were reaching out to her, and she took his hands, and he hoisted her up.

Once she was over the railing, he wrapped her in a hug. They were both soaked, but Hermione was warmed to her toes. She just wanted to stay in his arms forever.

"Oh, thank God," Ron was muttering, "Thank God you're all right. I love you so much, Hermione. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't," Hermione said, "Not if I'm with you." She gazed into his clear, gray eyes and saw the same thing she'd seen in Mr. Richerdly's eyes when he looked at Isabella. For what seemed like the millionth time that evening, tears came to her eyes. But they were different this time. They were tears of happiness.

"I love you," she whispered, and closed her eyes as their lips met in a passionate kiss, that made Hermione feel like she was flying.

"Take me home," she said. Ron smiled, put his arm around her, and they walked down together.

Three years later

"Have you talked to Isabella lately?" Ginny Potter asked.

"Actually, I just got a letter from her," Hermione answered, "She told me all about how much little Luke's grown since I last saw him."

"You should get Isobel together with him. I'm sure they'd be great friends," Ginny said.

"Yeah, I'm sure they would," Hermione agreed. She was at the Potter house, visiting with the in-laws, Harry and Ginny. Standing on the patio, sipping lemonade with Ginny, she watched her husband, Ron, playing with her three year old daughter, Isobel, and Harry and Ginny's children, Jamie and Suzie. Harry was unsuccessfully trying to start the grill the Muggle way. He got frustrated, and decided a spell would work better.

Hermione chuckled at Harry, but she wasn't concentrating on him. She was watching Isobel. The only resemblance Isobel bore to her son-of-a-bitch father was her dark hair and eyes. Otherwise, she didn't look like him at all, which was a relief to Hermione, who didn't need to be reminded of him. But Hermione concluded that she would've loved Isobel anyway even if she was the spitting image of her father. It really was a miracle Isobel was alive at all. Hermione thought she'd died when Viktor had attacked Hermione the evening she'd tried to commit suicide. But the doctors proclaimed her a hardy, healthy baby girl, when she was born six months later, just after Hermione and Ron's wedding.

Ron came over. He took a sip of Ginny's lemonade ("hey!" she protested, laughing) and slipped his arms around Hermione from behind, putting his hands on her pregnant belly.

"So, what d'you think," he said, "boy, or girl?"

Hermione laughed. She twisted around and put her arms around him.

"Oh, either one would be wonderful," she said, and kissed him, "Everything's wonderful."

okay, you know what, I take it back. I think its pretty good except for the very end, which I think is corny and just plain dumb. But I really couldn't think of anything else. Oh well. Please, please review!

Charm


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